Bittersweet
by yellow notepaper
Summary: Ginny Weasley had everything she had ever wanted. But what happens when someone turns it all upsidedown? Postwar. [gw.dm]
1. Prologue

**Bittersweet, a story by yellownotepaper**

**Category: **Harry Potter

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **Ginny Weasley had everything she had ever wanted. But what happens when someone turns it all upside-down? Post-war. gw.dm

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of its character's.

**Chapter:** One

-----

_Two households, both alike in dignity,  
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,  
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,  
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.  
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes  
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;  
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows  
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.  
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,  
And the continuance of their parents' rage,  
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,  
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;  
The which if you with patient ears attend,  
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend._

-----

For the first time in her life, Ginny Weasley was not looking forward to her birthday.

She wished that she could relive the magic of it, her own special holiday; the kind of which she had not experienced since she was a young girl. To be naive and carefree, without a worry or guilt in the world; it was a treasure that was not fully appreciated until it was gone, until it was too late.

The words on the sheet Ginny was staring at blurred together as her eyes swam out of focus, subconsciously biting her lip as she guiltily dreaded leaving her office. She knew that a party of some sort was waiting for her at her apartment, and she was feeling rather anxious about the whole affair. Sure, she was looking forward to spending time with her family (and getting loads of excellent presents from them), but what really bothered her was the fact that she would have to act again.

She hated to fake emotions to her parents – to anyone, really – but she just couldn't let on how she felt about Harry. To crush everything that they'd cautiously been building for over three years was simply unfathomable. After all, how could anyone_ not_ like him? He was brave, handsome, smart, and voted the most eligible bachelor in Britain and several other European countries. But Ginny just couldn't see him like she did all those years ago, when she was a foolish, innocent girl with a shoddy opinion of love. She bit her lip as memories of not-so-long-ago washed over her.

Harry Potter had asked her out in her 5th year, his 6th, and Ginny had to pinch herself several times to make sure that her inexperienced mind was not playing tricks on her. Dashingly handsome Harry Potter, the soon-to-be savior of the wizarding world, liked _her?_ Little Ginny Weasley with the funny red hair and the boyish hand-me-down clothes? Impossible. After all, she had liked him for nearly 5 years, and he had never before let on that he wished to be more than friends.

However, it became steadily more apparent that Harry Potter wanted to be more than friends with Ginny Weasley. And when Ginny looked in the mirror, she didn't see the little girl with the funny freckles, horribly pale skin, and red hair that looked as if it could singe you if you got too close. She saw a young woman; a young woman who had managed to snag the hottest guy in school.

In those few short weeks that they had dated, Ginny felt as if she'd been swept off her feet and they had never touched the ground again. She was spun into a whirlwind of magic and wonder. All the girls were intensely jealous of her; she was forced to endure more than her fair share of catty insults from his unofficial fan club, most of them from a tall dark-haired Romilda Vane. But she dealt with them because she knew that Harry loved her, like he had told her so many times as he kissed her; hot, drugged kisses that left her weak at the knees. What else could she do but believe him?

They broke it off, due to Harry's noble 'I don't want you to get hurt' sentiment. But Ginny _was_ hurt. Hurt more deeply then she would ever let anyone see. She understood his reasoning, and even agreed with it. She only wished that they could be like a normal couple, going out for an ice cream in the broad daylight with no one throwing hexes at them, with no single person to ruin their night. Harry could tell that she was upset, and he took her aside to speak in private that night.

"_Promise me something, Ginny," Harry said, stroking her hand softly with his callused thumb._

"_Anything," she said softly, her brown eyes fixed on his._

_He grabbed her hand with both of his now, his gaze intensifying. "When this is all over," he said quietly, _

"_Marry me."_

Being the foolish girl that she had once been, she agreed straight away.

Even though their engagement was in place, they had decided not to slip a word to anyone about the event. Ginny had no regrets at the time about saying yes – 'What could be better than marrying Harry Potter?' she had thought. Since that night, she hadn't looked at any other boy twice, or dreamed of anyone but Harry and their eventual marital bliss together. She was often reprimanded in class the following months after their conversation, staring dreamily off into space and wondering where he was, or if he was thinking about her like she was thinking about him.

She yawned, resting her head on her folded arms as dreams of the past came over her once more…

"_Ginny!" Harry shouted hoarsely, ducking as a jet of blue light flew over his head. She felt her hair ruffle as a curse soared past her and into a tree, which immediately caught fire._

_He rushed over to her, deftly deflecting another beam of light that had flown out of a death eater's wand. "Expelliarmus!"__he shouted, and the wand flew out of the surprised man's hand. Harry's upper lip curled nastily as he aimed another curse at the cloaked figure, who fell clumsily to the ground, motionless._

_Ginny stared frantically at Harry, who wiped a trembling hand across his sweaty forehead, streaking it with dirt and grime. "You have to be more careful, Ginny," he muttered to her apprehensively, green eyes swiftly darting around the battlefield to ensure that they were not due for another attack. "It's not a playground out here!"_

"_I know, I know," Ginny whispered desperately, her voice breaking with emotion. "But Harry –" She broke off as a curse flew through the air, headed straight at her temple. Her eyes widened and, as she ducked, Harry deflected it with a careless flick of his wand. His eyes hardened as he stared at the death eater, an uncharacteristically ugly look on his face. _

_He placed a sweaty hand on her bruised shoulder, squeezing it gently. "We'll talk later, Gin," he said, offering her a weak smile. She made a feeble attempt to return it, but she was certain that it looked more like a grimace than a smile. The last thing she felt like doing at the moment was smiling. Harry turned on his heel and sprinted off, leaving behind a girl who had never felt so helpless in her life._

_Her eyes watched him go, a lump in her throat. What if there _was_ no later, she thought miserably. This battle was the fight to determine the fate of one of the most deadly wars in history. Her fiancé was fighting the most evil wizard to ever walk the earth, and it was very possible that Harry would…_

_She shook her head like a dog with water in its ears, trying to erase that thought completely from her mind. 'No,' she told herself fervently. 'I won't think about that, because it's not going to happen. We're all going to be fine.' Not completely reassured, she drew her wand quickly, blinking the tears out of her eyes furiously._

_She ran a nervous hand through her tangled hair, swallowing the lump in her throat. "We're going to be fine," she said to herself shakily, forgetting momentarily that she was in the middle of a battle. _

"_I wouldn't be so sure of that," said an icy voice behind her, and Ginny felt her heart stop. Her blood ran cold as she closed her eyes and whirled around to realize that she was completely surrounded by dark, cloaked death eaters. Lucius Malfoy, the obvious leader of the pact, stepped forward from the center of the semi-circle._

_Tall, dark, and menacing, his cold grey eyes flashed as he looked her up and down. Her fingers automatically tightened on her wand._

"_This is what the great Harry Potter sends to defend himself and his people?" he scoffed, his face hidden behind an ugly black mask. He laughed coldly, and Ginny felt a shiver go down her spine. He sneered at her, and spat on the ground. "Pathetic," he hissed maliciously._

_Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. Provoking them would not help. Lucius looked her up and down quickly, his facial expression softening in a not at all comforting way. "Although…" The tone of his voice had changed; it was silkier, more charming. Ginny felt her blood run cold – she'd heard that tone before…_

_He sounded like _Tom.

_He stepped forward so they were only a foot apart, his cloak dragging behind him on the parched, yellowing grass. His grey eyes darkened with lust, rolling over her ripped shirt, which was revealing a strip of her bra, and over her low-riding jeans she had thrown on before racing off to battle. _

"_You seem to have…improved, since I last saw you," he drawled, his eyes not meeting her own. She felt herself blush, embarrassed but furious by his blatant scrutiny. He lifted a heavily cloaked arm to caress her cheek, his hand cold and rough against the soft surface of her skin. She shuddered and bit her lip, backing up a few paces._

"_However…" he trailed off, glancing behind him with a smirk. Ginny followed his line of vision to see that he was staring at the semi-circle of death eaters, all staring at her with a gleam of excitement in their eyes, "I shall leave you with my son."_

_As if on cue, a tall, familiar looking blond boy stepped forward, cloaked in black but mask-less, his pale skin shining in the dimming afternoon. Ginny fell weakly to her knees, her heart pounding a tattoo in her chest as she stared up into those memorable gray-blue eyes. _

_He stared back with the same intensity, his eyes unreadable and blank. Her breathing seemed to stop altogether as their eyes locked, gray on brown. Electricity flowed through every pore in her body, an intimate bond connecting them together as one. The dull pain in her head seemed to vanish as he stared at her, his eyes clear and filled with emotion. She felt his hand tighten on her own, and felt a jumpy feeling in her heart; the kind she got whenever she was with Harry. Ginny blinked._

_A chill swept over her as Lucius nodded at him and, before Ginny could quite react, he had grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her flush to him in a bruising kiss. She gasped in surprise and fear, and he slid his tongue into her mouth, gagging her._

_The death eaters were laughing now, cruel smiles plastered on their masked faces. Lucius was among them, a smirk twisting his thin mouth. Ginny struggled against him, but he was too strong for her; a hand snaked around her waist and crushed her to him. A warmth seeped through his robes and onto her scantily clad body, and she suddenly felt…not exactly comfortable, but relaxed. _

_He pulled away for a second, and stared at her, his eyes locked onto her own. Ginny felt herself shiver, although she wasn't entirely sure that it was from the cold. She could still feel the pressure from his lips on her own, and subconsciously bit her lip, running her tongue over the back of her teeth._

_Draco released her from his vice-like grip, and she fell back to the ground, landing rather unceremoniously on her knees once more. He plunged his hand into the front pocket of his robes and withdrew a thin, wooden wand. He pointed it at her head and, very fast, so fast Ginny thought she might have imagined it, he winked. _

_A sudden rush of understanding came over Ginny as he shouted._

"_Basanistirio!"_

_A horrible, painless scream erupted out of her mouth, her hands flailing madly in the air as she fell to her back. She was twitching uncontrollably, becoming steadily dirtier in the mud she was lying in. An intense feeling of relief, rather than pain, as the death eaters believed, had come over her. She was _saved._ For now, at least. Her breathing became unsteady as she yelled hoarsely for help. After a few seconds, she relaxed limply on her back, her eyes closed and beads of sweat visible on her forehead._

"_I don't remember that spell," said Lucius coolly, staring unblinkingly at Draco as Ginny lay panting on the grimy earth, staring at both of them with equal parts horror and confusion._

"_Its rather new," Draco lied flawlessly, looking bored. Ginny could see one of his hand shaking but he, realizing this, quickly steadied it and let it fall gracefully at his side. Lucius' face was suspicious, but he did not speak. He nodded curtly at Draco once more, and Draco turned to face Ginny once more, his face emotionless. He raised his wand._

"_Usurpo Fruor!" he cried, and a jet of purple sparks flew out of the end of his wand. They surrounded Ginny in pleasant warmth, tickling her exposed skin gently. She felt herself grinning, and quickly turned it into a grimace._

_"Ahh hahahh," she shrieked. It felt as if a thousand feathers had suddenly appeared out of thin air and were tickling her mercilessly. She turned onto her stomach so the onlookers couldn't see her smile, and tried her best not to laugh. It was difficult, and she rolled around a bit on the ground in an attempt to make her supposed 'torture' more believable._

"_Draco," said Lucius harshly, and Draco lowered his wand. The spell lifted, and Ginny felt the smile slide off of her face as she scrambled back into a sitting position. The tickling sensation she had felt seconds before was rapidly being replaced by a feeling of cold dread. Lucius did not seem to be as convinced as the other death eaters, who were still grinning maliciously at her._

_He was looking at Draco with look of calm confusion plastered on his pasty face, his eyes flashing dangerously. Draco stared right back at him defiantly, but he weakened slightly under his callous gaze._

"_Get on with it, boy!" he snapped._

_Ginny looked quickly at Draco, who's icy demeanor had finally cracked. He looked years younger; his face was vulnerable and soft, looking helplessly at the wand handing limply in his hand. He glanced up at her, and his resolve seemed to harden. The impassive mask seemed to reappear on his face, his eyes dulling as his fingers tightened around his wand._

"_As you wish, Father," he said softly. He took a few long strides until he was directly in front of her, before leaning forward and whispering, "Run."_

_Ginny didn't think twice. She scrambled to her feet and ran in the opposite direction, toward the forbidden forest, as shouts and jets of light flashed behind her. Her breathing was rapid and panicked, but she did not slow her pace. She was numb with fear but kept running, occasionally throwing a hex over her shoulder in the event that a death eater was chasing her. _

_She threw herself only minutes later behind a large oak tree, about twenty feet from the smoking hut that had once been Hagrid's home, and closed her eyes with relief. She gave an involuntary whimper of pain as her head hit the tree trunk. Her entire body was aching; each limb felt as if it weighed as much as a house. Although she was severely uncomfortable and one of her legs was lying, exposed, to the death eaters, she couldn't bring herself to move._

_A sigh escaped her as she opened her eyes, staring up at the canopy of leaves above her. Her heart was still racing as if she had run a marathon instead of just about fifty yards. Her body was weak and exhausted, but her mind was still in a fit state, and its gears were turning furiously. What exactly had just happened?_

_A loud, victorious shout echoed around the grounds. She started, her eyes darting apprehensively around the grounds. With a great effort, she weakly crawled around the tree, struggling to stay conscious. Pain was shooting through her body like a thousand piercing nails, but she ignored it, bracing herself against the tree for support. She collapsed only seconds later on the opposite side of the trunk, breathing heavily, all energy drained from her frail body._

_She turned her head slowly, wincing at the throbbing pain that erupted in her head as she did so. She squinted, trying to make out the figures in the distance. A red-headed man was…whooping, yelling to someone with obvious relief and joy. It was Ron, she realized with a jolt. Ron was cheering…but why?_

_A whisper of hope erupted in her mind, and raw energy coursed through her, giving her the strength to stand. Her breathing was speeding up, her eyes frantically searching the grounds until she saw her youngest brother again. Yes, that was definitely him, she thought, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. She saw a bushy-haired witch run across the field and into his arms, tears running down her face. She wrapped her legs around him and began snogging him desperately, their arms so tightly wound around each other it was hard to tell who's was whose. _

_Maybe…just maybe… they had won?_

_She bit her lip anxiously, praying with all her might that it was true. 'Please,' she thought. 'If there is a God, just let this be true.' She closed her eyes tightly, feeling a hot tear escape and run down her cheek before she opened them again, still gazing at the embracing couple on the battlefield._

"_Ron," she groaned weakly. Her feet felt like lead; she couldn't move. He was too far away for her to hear, of course, but she needed to know…she had to know for sure…She let out a sob that she had not realized that she had been holding in. "Ron, what…?" She gasped and broke off mid-sentence, not that anyone had been listening to her._

_He had done it._

_Harry had killed Voldemort._

_Harry was standing in the center of the grounds, his shirt sticking to his panting body, slick with sweat. He seemed to be shaking violently; his wand was still pointed at the pile of robes at his feet, now all that was left of the most evil wizard of all time. He glanced at her, and a huge, nervous grin broke out on his face. Ginny could feel a huge, thankful grin curve her own mouth as well, a happiness filling her like nothing else had ever had. Relief was flooding through her tense body, and the pain that had seemed so excruciatingly awful only seconds before seemed to dull._

_Her feet seemed to magically unstick themselves from the soil; the next thing she knew, she was running as fast as she had ever run in her life towards Harry, all the pain she had felt only seconds before vanishing. She ran to him desperately, an ache to feel his hands or simply to hear his voice erupting inside her like a volcano. Her feet seemed to reach him at last, knocking him to the ground. She felt him chuckle against her neck, his deep voice vibrating against her throat. And oh, it felt so right, with his lips on hers and their arms and legs tangled together as one; saying his name over and over and hearing him do the same, pushing all thoughts of gray eyes from her mind…_

Soon after the war had ended, they had announced their engagement. Her family, of course, threw a huge party, with many people invited that neither she nor Harry knew in the least. Ginny was thrilled, naturally; who wouldn't be?

Ginny herself could sometimes not believe it – she would wake up some mornings and still be years behind, when their entire existence was shrouded in shadow. But Voldemort was dead - dead and never coming back Tom was gone too, she reminded herself. Tom would never come to haunt her ever again.

Unfortunately, someone had taken his place.

It was nothing like Tom, these recurring dreams that had materialized unknowingly in her dreams. With Tom, it was simply devotion; unwavering loyalty and admiration for such a handsome older boy who had looked _so_ much like Harry, so much it was almost as good as the real thing. No, this was different – such _raw_ passion in those eyes, such a violent pleasure hidden behind them that made her shudder even after she had awoken.

And even after the three years that had passed since the war was over, she would often still wake in a thin sheen of sweat, dreaming of a pair of grey eyes and a heated body that had seemed so real a few seconds before…

"Ginny?"

Ginny awoke with a start, opening a bleary eye. "Neville?" she muttered, sitting up from the desktop she had been napping on and stretching. "What are you d-doing here?" She yawned, her eyelids drooping.

"Don't play stupid, Gin," he teased, his round face beaming at her. "You know why I'm here." Ginny restrained a groan. She had forgotten.

Neville had conveniently been invited over to her flat for dinner that night by Harry Potter, her fiancé of three years. 'A quiet get-together', he had said, but she didn't miss the wink that they had shared when they thought she wasn't looking. This thought made her dread going home even more than ever before. Harry would be expecting something tonight, and she just wasn't up to it.

"Alright," she sighed, getting up slowly and brushing back a lock of crimson hair behind her ear. She bit her lip subconsciously, glancing around the room for her briefcase. Her eyes focused on the black bag in the corner and, feeling too tired to fetch it herself, she simply cried "Accio," and it flew into her outstretched hand.

She waved her wand at various files that besieged her desk, and they flew messily into the open case as she pulled on her black traveling cloak. Her mind was still whirring with the remains of her reminiscent daydream, and she walked through the door that Neville held open for her in a sort of daze.

These daydreams had become more frequent the more hours she spent working, which had been steadily increasing since her partner had quit two weeks ago. Ginny hadn't gotten a good night's sleep since then.

"Gin?"

Ginny blinked slowly and took in her surroundings. Her feet seemed to have taken her to the Lobby of the Ministry without her knowing. She glanced up at Neville, who was staring at her with a concerned expression on his boyish face.

"You all right, Gin?" he said, sounding slightly worried.

"Yeah," said Ginny, forcing a smile. "Brilliant."

Neville seemed to completely miss the sarcasm, and held out the flower pot full of floo powder. She grasped a handful and threw in into a fireplace with the number '15' engraved on the border in elegant silver handwriting. Green flames erupted inside, and Ginny felt a pleasantly warm sensation as she stepped inside and yelled, "The Burrow!"

-----

**A:N://** Oooo my first series in practically a year! Hooray hurrah! I wanted to write a d/g, and this came to me. It was originally going to be a really long one-shot, but I decided to make a series. DDD

I know that Draco seems a little OOC, but I'll explain it all in later chapters, I promise. Thanks to laur for editing (most of) this story!

By the way, 'basanistirio' means 'torture' in Greek, and usurpo fruor both mean 'enjoy' in Latin.

r&r sweeties!

--- Erin


	2. Early to Rise

**Bittersweet, a story by yellownotepaper**

**Category: **Harry Potter

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **Ginny Weasley had everything she had ever wanted. But what happens when someone turns it all upside-down? Post-war. gw.dm

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of its character's.

**Chapter:** Two

**Forward:** There are hints of sexual content in here, guys, but nothing major. o)

-----

"Oh dear, I had a lovely time," Molly said smilingly before enveloping her in a tight embrace. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Of course," said Ginny with a modest grin. And it was true; she _did_ have a good time. They had moved the party outside once the moon had risen in the dark, star scattered night, and Fred and George had let loose a display of absolutely breathtaking fireworks of all different colours and designs. Bill had come over later with Fleur and two children, who absolutely adored Ginny and had succeeded in making her laugh almost the entire night.

Not to mention the gifts; as she had expected, the gifts were spectacular. From Bill and Fleur, she had received a gorgeous leather-bound book about pyramids (complete with a bookmark from France). Charlie had also chosen a book, but his was on dragons ("Big surprise," Ginny had said, laughing). Ron and Hermione had given her a new bottle of her favourite perfume (she had told Hermione last week that she was running out), and got a large amount of free merchandise from Fred and George, some of which they had not yet released. ("So keep your big mouth shut," Fred said.) She had also gotten a beautiful silver quill from Percy and Penelope, a photo album of herself and her brothers growing up from her parents, and huge hugs and homemade cards from Bill's kids, Luke and Sari. Overall, she thought that this might have been her biggest haul since she had come of age, and one of the best birthday parties she'd had in a long while.

Harry was the only problem. He had been utterly too clingy, and instead of talking with the rest of the family, had followed her around the whole night like a lost puppy, grabbing her hand and hugging her from behind. Ginny might have told him to cut it out if her entire extended family wasn't there to watch her yell at him so they could tell her off her in return. So she simply dealt with it; she did her best to look happy and perfectly content in his arms, though she felt like cringing every time his calloused hand brushed her hip or his breath was on her ear -

"Ginny, dear?"

Ginny snapped back to reality and saw that her mother had ceased hugging her – from the look on her face, she had stopped long ago – and was staring at her in a concerned sort of way. "Are you alright, darling?"

"Oh, yeah," said Ginny, smiling distractedly. "Just – tired, is all."

"I hope you're not too tired," said a soft voice in her ear as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against a warm body. Ginny jumped, pressing a hand to her heart, but relaxed after a moment after realizing who it was.

"Merlin, Harry," she said in a strangled sort of way. "You scared the life out of me!"

She heard a soft, low chuckle in her ear, and then a pair of lips was on her neck, sucking slightly on the tender spot near her collarbone. She let out a squeak, and pulled away from him slightly.

"Harry, my whole family is here," Ginny whispered in a harsh tone, but most of the other occupants of the room had already seen. Hermione and Fleur, along with the other Weasley wives in the vicinity, were looking quite amused at the whole ordeal. Ron looked slightly disgusted, and had opened his mouth to speak (probably to shout something obscene at Harry) before Hermione stepped on his foot.

"Do you have to fondle our sister in front of us, Harry?" said Fred loudly, and Ginny felt her cheeks burn. Fred, like everyone else in the family, had been overjoyed when Harry and Ginny announced their engagement, but still treated her as if she was 12; after all, she was the baby still, after twenty years. Harry, however, had long grown used to their teasing, and merely laughed, lifting his head to look at Ginny's youngest brother. "I'm just anxious to give her my _present,_" he said teasingly to Ron, who blanched.

"We were just leaving, anyway," Molly said, winking at Ginny as she walked past. Ginny squirmed uncomfortably in Harry's grip. "Come on, you lot, lets give them some privacy."

Hermione was not fast enough to stop Ron from making a gagging noise in the corner, his ears a brilliant red with embarrassment and frustration. Ron had always been the most protective of her brothers, and although he could be terribly sweet, he had always sheltered her from boys the most out of everyone she had ever known.

"Lets go, Ron," said Hermione in a warning sort of way, and Ron came over to hug Ginny and wish her a happy birthday before shuffling out the door, glaring at his shoelaces.

"Happy birthday, Ginny," said Hermione softly as they exchanged a quick hug. Ginny smiled and said her thanks, before Hermione too pulled back and followed Ron out the door.

It took Ginny the better part of an hour to say goodbye to all of her relatives, mostly due to Bill's children not wanting to leave. She was sure to take her time as Harry waited impatiently behind her; she was _not_ looking forward to tonight. But finally, as Charlie disappeared out the door with his wife, Sophie, she could delay no longer.

Almost as soon as this thought had gone through her mind, Harry was on her again, but this time he was less gentle than he had been in front of her family; his hands traveled down to rest on her waist, one of them moving around to cup her bottom.

"Gods, Gin," he murmured against her neck. "I've been waiting all night for this…" And he pushed her roughly against the wall, ignoring the small cry that slipped through her lips, and pressed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. One of his hands slipped up the back of her shirt and snapped her bra; it fell to her feet in a messy heap.

"Harry," Ginny gasped, pushing him back. "The rubber – "

Harry cursed and pulled back a few inches, his hot breath still close - _too_ close to her face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom, which took Ginny by surprise – since when did he start carrying those around?

Harry seemed to read her thoughts; he let out another one of his deep laughs and said, "I told you I've been waiting all night. More like all bloody _week_…" he muttered as he came closer. With a stab of fear, Ginny put out a hand to stop him from coming any closer, and said, too breathily for her liking, "Wait, Harry, not here –"

Harry made a soft groan of frustration, but his face lit up a second after. "Wait," he said, walking over to the closet on Ginny's left and opening the sliding door, reaching to the top shelf and grabbing a white box that she hadn't noticed.

"Here," he said eagerly, shoving it into her hands. "Open it."

Ginny complied warily, taking off the top of the box and removing the tissue paper that covered her gift. A quick intake of breath revealed her surprise, and Harry grinned at her.

"I had hoped you could wear it, tonight," he said, his black hair falling messily into his eyes. Ginny felt her heart sink as she picked up her gift – a lacy, black, practically transparent and clearly expensive underwear set.

"Harry, these must have cost a fortune!" Ginny gasped, reading the tag that hung from the strap.

"It doesn't matter," said Harry, stepping closer. "Money has never been a problem for me, Gin. Even if it was," he muttered, his nose brushing her own. "I would have bought it anyway. You're worth it."

This statement would have once set a flurry of butterflies whirling through her body, making her weak at the knees and short of breath. But now, all Ginny felt was a heavy feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. She wished she could feel like she used to about Harry; to be devoted and adoring and _so_ in love.

Harry hadn't noticed her daydreaming, or perhaps he had just gotten used to it; she _had_ been daydreaming a lot lately. A tongue caressed the hollow spot between her collarbone again, and she knew that if they were going to move, they had to move now.

"The bedroom," Ginny breathed, putting her hand on his hand, which was resting on her waist, to stop him from lifting off her own shirt in turn.

Harry seemed to like this commanding tone – she made a mental note to never use it again - he took her into her arms, not seeming to hear her small gasp, and carried her up the stairs with a surprising strength.

What sex does to men.

-----

Ginny awoke with a start in the middle of the night, her gasp punctuating what would have been silence if it had not been for Harry's soft snores. She sat up in bed, leaning heavily on her left arm and clutching her heart with her right, breathing heavily. She had been plagued with these dreams for months now, but each one still startled her as if it was the first.

It had just been so undeniably _real_, so much so that it made Ginny want to cry out in frustration. To feel the soft, fine blond hair between her fingers, the gentle, delicate hands touching her in places that she wouldn't have dared to say aloud, and those intense dark grey eyes gazing into her own…

And then to just wake up, to have what seemed so solid turn into nothingness as Ginny awoke in the wee hours of many mornings of the past, as she was doing now. With a sigh, she slid out from underneath the comforter and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, yawning for a second before coming to her feet.

She clutched blindly in the dark room, searching for a dressing robe to cover herself with. Her hand met smooth silk and, although she wasn't quite sure if it was hers or Harry's, she slipped it over her naked form and tied the knot around her middle.

Blearily, she made her way out the bedroom door and into the kitchen, switching on the lights as she went. Her eyes squinted as light flooded the room, illuminating the time on the clock above the mantel. 5:35. It was early, but Ginny was a morning person; she was used to getting up while it was still dark outside and feeling perfectly awake.

With a yawn, she made herself some coffee, careful to be quiet enough to not wake Harry. She needn't have worried, however; she knew perfectly well that Harry was a deep sleeper. Harry wouldn't mind being woken up so early; in fact, he would probably see it as ample time to shower together.

Precisely why Ginny preferred him asleep.

It wasn't that Harry wasn't a good lover – he _was_, knowing just where to touch to make her tremble or just how to turn her on. Not like Ginny had much experience with such manners, anyway. It just wasn't as good as it used to be; Harry's hands had gotten less gentle and more demanding, and Ginny had never stopped them from roaming wherever they had desired. And recently, Ginny had started to actually dread sleeping with Harry. She felt…wrong, somehow, like she was breaking some sort of rule. That wasn't the way love was supposed to feel.

The screech of the stool made her freeze, listening intently for the telltale sound of Harry's soft snoring. There was a grunt from the bedroom, a deep breath, and then the continuous sound of Harry's heavy breathing. Ginny let out a sigh of relief, and sat down on the said stool at the kitchen table. It was nice to be alone for once; Harry was almost always pestering her about something or other; his simply just _being_ there sometimes was even irritating.

She was always sort of a loner in school, but she preferred it that way. It was easier to get work done and think while in silence, rather in the company of the giggling girls which shared her dorm. For this reason, she was near the top of her class, especially in dark arts.

Her mother, although pleased with her class rankings, was not happy that she had basically no companions, and encouraged her to make new friends. Occasionally, she ordered Ron, Hermione, and Harry to hang out with her, but this did her no more good. Ginny knew that they were only there because they were ordered to be, and this made their get-togethers awkward and dull.

Ginny didn't make an effort to be friends with the girls in her year; she knew that they had so little in common that they would never be more than acquaintances. The other girls of Ginny's year liked to talk about make-up and boys and clothes. Ginny, however, preferred the more serious discussions about the war and Lord Voldemort's whereabouts which, whenever she brought those subjects up, would attract stares and mutterings, so she simply kept to herself. She would have liked to discuss such things with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but she knew that she would never fit in with the 'Golden Trio'. They all thought that she was too young, anyway.

Ginny took a small sip of coffee, and set it back on the table. She didn't even know why she made coffee anyway; she never had more than half a cup, yet she made it every single day. Perhaps it was a habit she picked up from Harry.

Speaking of Harry, their flat seemed unusually quiet…

"Gotcha," said a soft voice from behind her, a pair of strong arms snaking around her waist. Ginny jumped, and then relaxed into Harry's arms. "Didn't I tell you not to do that?" she scolded, but her voice was too tired for it to sound remotely serious.

Harry chuckled softly, bending down for a good morning kiss. Ginny pushed him away after a moment, however. "Morning breath," she said, smirking slightly at the disappointed expression on Harry's face as she got up.

"I don't care about your morning breath," Harry grumbled, but sat down at the kitchen table nonetheless, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Who said I was talking about _my_ morning breath?" Ginny teased, going into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Harry laughed dryly.

"Very funny."

Their flat stayed fairly quiet after that; Harry got up to make his own coffee (he was a caffeine addict) and Ginny put some bread in the toaster. It burnt after a few minutes; Ginny had unfortunately not inherited her mother's superb cooking skills, even if it was just a simple thing like toasting bread.

"Sorry," Ginny said when handing him his plate. "I'm not much of a cook."

Harry took one look at his blackened piece of what used to be bread, and let out a laugh. "S'alright," he chuckled, taking a bite of the toast. "I like it burnt."

Ginny laughed too, and sat down across from him with her own piece of toast and a glass of water. It was nice, Ginny thought, to just sit and make small talk without mention of sex or their upcoming marriage. It reminded her of when they were just friends, back before fifth year. Ginny smiled and took a sip of water. A few minutes after, however, Harry broke the silence.

"So do you want to set a date?"

Ginny choked on the water that she had been drinking, slopping water all down her front. "Come again?" she sputtered, grabbing a napkin to pat her sodden dressing gown.

Harry gave her a strange look. "A date for the wedding, Gin. Have you thought about when you'd like to get married?"

Ginny paused, thinking. She had purposely avoided thinking about her upcoming wedding; it made her feel a bit queasy. However, no matter how hard she thought, she couldn't think of a way to avoid Harry's question. It was much too direct for her to feasibly ignore.

"Well," said Ginny slowly. "I suppose I'd like to get married in the spring. I've always pictured myself standing under the willow tree while it was in bloom," she added, lying through her teeth as she twirled a lock of ginger hair between her thumb and forefinger absently.

"Then it's settled," Harry declared, standing. "We will marry in the spring." He gave her a brilliant smile, which she hesitantly returned. The feeling of rising bile was cursing her again, as it always did when she talked to Harry about their wedding.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said suddenly, wanting to get off the topic of marriage. She stood up, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Then I'm off to work."

Harry's face fell. "So early?"

"Yeah," said Ginny wearily, stretching. "I have a meeting early this morning; I think Ingrid's finally going to retire," she added, referring to her ancient co-worker at the Ministry.

Harry sighed, running a hand distractedly through his hair, which was mussed from sleep. "Alright," he finally said, but suddenly met her gaze, a mischievous gleam in his emerald eyes. "Do you have time for a shower with me?"

Ginny shook her head. Harry looked upset, however, and she immediately felt bad. Though he could be a bit of an asshole, he was still her fiancé and good friend. "Whenever I take a shower with you, I don't get clean!" she said teasingly as she walked into the bedroom, and she heard him laugh.

"I suppose," he yawned. "What time is your meeting?"

"Seven," Ginny called from the next room, slipping out of her dressing gown and letting it fall to the tiled floor. "Why?"

She heard a dry chuckle. "You'd better hurry then, its almost ten till."

Ginny froze, closing her eyes in disbelieving horror. "You're joking, right?"

"Not joking, Gin."

Without another word, Ginny pulled the tap on the shower and hopped inside while the water was still cool, wincing as the freezing water hit her skin. Her shower went by fairly quickly; quicker than it usually did, given the pressure of not being late to her meeting. She never dawdled long in the shower or in front of a mirror; she didn't care much about her appearance. Back when she and Harry had first gotten engaged, she spent hours in front of the mirror, scrutinizing herself frantically for the tiniest flaw. Recently, however, she realized that she didn't really give a damn what she looked like, and she didn't feel the need to impress Harry anymore. She hadn't for awhile.

"Five minutes, Gin," Harry called from the kitchen.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Ginny muttered, slipping into her favourite pair of plain loafers and grabbing her briefcase by the bedroom door. She ran a quick brush through her damp hair, dropping the brush unceremoniously on the bedside table as she ran out the door to the kitchen.

Harry looked up from the Daily Prophet when she entered, looking a bit frazzled.

"You," said Harry, dropping the paper, "Are the most," he came closer, "Amazing witch," he put his arms around her, "I've ever met." And he kissed her, hard.

Ginny nearly gagged in surprise, managing to hide this in a soft moan as his slimy tongue traced around her lips. "No, Harry," Ginny breathed, placing her small hands on his broad chest to draw herself away. "I don't have – the time –"

Harry pushed her away roughly, and she fell into the pantry door with a thump, her eyes wide in fear as Harry stalked back to the table and picked up his newspaper so ruthlessly that it nearly ripped in two. Ginny placed a trembling hand to her heart, still staring at Harry in confusion. He had just – _snapped,_ for no reason whatsoever. He had never done that before, not ever; even when he was frustrated with her early work hours.

Taking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes to apperate to the ministry, trying to concentrate on the three D's instead of Harry's previous behavior. She heard Harry mutter, "Whatever," before she disapperated.

-----

Ginny skidded down the hallway, cursing under her breath. Why did the apparition point have to be so far from her office? "Of _course_ the elevator is going under testing today," she mumbled, red-faced and sweaty from her long trek down the stairs to the second floor, where her office was located. "I should have gone into the Department of Magical Sports and Games," she muttered angrily, running up another flight of stairs. "Their office is on the bloody – seventh – floor…"

Panting, she came to a stop in front of a rather beaten-up looking blue door. Elegantly inscribed in the center were the words 'Auror Headquarters' in silver cursive. She grabbed for the rusty knob, her hand slipping with sweat, and entered the Main Auror Conference Room, which branched off into several smaller offices.

"Shit," she grumbled as her briefcase fell to the floor in the open doorway, spilling paperwork everywhere. "Just my bloody luck." Foul words continued to flow continuously from her mouth as she stuffed her papers back into her briefcase until she had closed the snap, about a minute later.

An annoyed sigh echoed around the office, along with the tapping of fingers. Ginny froze, suddenly horribly aware that she was not nearly as alone as she had believed.

"You're late, Weasley."

Ginny closed her eyes. Perfect. The head honcho himself.

"You frightened me, Minister," Ginny said softly.

"I have that effect on people."

Turning around hesitantly, she came face to face with the entire community of Aurors, most a higher ranking than herself, all of whom were staring at her somewhat accusingly. Sitting comfortably in the middle, his wild auburn hair frizzing out much like a lion's mane, was Rufus Scrimegeour. He wasn't looking quite as angry as his words might have suggested, though his eyes flashed as they took in her harried appearance. Ginny coughed to fill the awkward silence, her hand tightly gripping her briefcase.

Scrimegeour turned his attention to the papers in his hand, and Ginny let out a breath that she didn't realize that she was holding. Whenever he looked at her like that, it made her feel like he was seeing right through her.

"Sit down, Weasley," Scrimegeour said coolly. Ginny hesitantly stepped around the coffee table, sitting in a hard-backed wooden chair. She squirmed uncomfortably.

"Now that Weasley has decided to show up," said Scrimegeour, neatening the papers and placing them calmly on his lap, "We can start business."

Ginny bit her lip. "Sir, I can explain –"

"And yet I don't believe that I asked for an explanation, as you have wasted quite enough time already," said Scrimegeour coolly, and Ginny's voice died away. "Now," he said, glancing around at the occupants of the room, "I believe you all know why you are here?"

There was a collective nodding around the room, which Ginny hesitantly repeated. She didn't know, exactly, but to irritate Scrimegeour more would not be wise on her part. She bit her lip anxiously.

Scrimegeour ruffled his papers again and cleared his throat. "Well then," he said briskly. "I believe that it is time to introduce Ingrid's replacement." He gazed at Ginny with an unfaltering stare, and Ginny felt a slight sense of accomplishment at guessing correctly at the purpose of the meeting.

There was a knock at the door, and Ginny blinked, gazing at it without really seeing it. This would be her new partner, she realized. Hopefully they would be more competent than Ingrid, who was so old she couldn't read a file if it was two inches away from her wrinkly nose.

"'Enter," said Scrimegeour.

The door opened, followed by a swish of black robes and a pair of highly polished shoes. They clicked noisily on the tile as _he_ walked over to the circle of Aurors to stand before her, briefcase in hand. Ginny felt her mouth fall open as she stared into those silvery eyes, the ones she hadn't seen for more than two years outside of dreams…

Malfoy smirked. "Hello, Weasley."

-----

**A:N://** Sorry for the long wait.

I made Harry nicer than I had originally intended, actually; he isn't really much different from his school-self (except when sex is involved. Tee hee!). Yes, he can be a little OOC at times, but…idk. I don't really see him growing up like that (if he doesn't die in the 7th book, lol) but it's probable, at least.

This chapter sort of explains the plot a little bit, but nothing much happens. Although it gets very drably when Ginny wakes up early in the morning. Very, very drably. Ehh, be patient, my lovely readers. These chapters take me forever, though, cuz I like them to be at least 4,000 words each, and I take forever to go thru editing. After I'm done this story, ill probably go back and re-edit this entire story.

Oh wells. Review away lovelys!

Erin


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